


I'll Follow You Anywhere

by dreamyafterdark



Category: Paterson (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Alternate Universe - Truckers, Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Driving, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inspired by Paterson (2016), Kidnapping, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Runaway Armitage Hux, Running Away, kylux adjacent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 09:56:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21159767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamyafterdark/pseuds/dreamyafterdark
Summary: Modern AU. Armie is running away from Brendol, on foot and by train. Paterson is driving his city bus number 23 out onto the freeway. Both end up lost in the city. And perhaps both may be able to rescue one another.





	I'll Follow You Anywhere

Running. Running so fast that the air can’t get down into his lungs fast enough. Or when it does, it’s too fast. Or the wind picks up and blows right against his face, and his eyes start streaming, and he starts laughing, almost manic, almost drowning in air… and he’s still running. But he’s free. 

He’s free now.

Every now and then a wayward branch scratches his bare legs, but that’s alright, that’s alright. Armie doesn’t mind. He keeps running. 

There is blood under his fingernails. He’ll wash that off sometime. There’s no time now.

There’s blood on his lip. The cut’s sealed up, it smarts a bit when his lips stretch out. They do that by themselves. He keeps running.

When he hears a dog barking he speeds up at first, then realises that dog might as well be defending him. He’s free now. The world is not all like Brendol. And where he’s going, they won’t know there ever was a Brendol. He doesn’t have to be like this anymore. 

He’s free now.

Paterson had driven the number 23 bus to the depot, like normal for the end of his shift. But it wasn’t normal, and it wasn’t the end of his shift. He’d asked all passengers to leave, problems with the engine, not safe.  
They had collected at a stop, waited for the next bus, while Paterson drove the bus towards the depot, to get it checked out. But he never stopped. He kept going.  
Busses didn’t drive on the free-way. Well. City busses did not. But Paterson didn’t drive for the City bus company anymore. That was the thing. Not since he had gotten into a fight with his manager, the day after his wife’s dog tore up his poetry notebook, and all his work, and all his dreams… 

True, you could always make new ones. 

But what if those dreams weren’t your first ones? Or even your middle ones? What if they were your last ones? What if you had no more air to breathe in your life, and those dreams had been your window and now they were gone, and all you were left with was house with black and white polka dots… was a marriage to someone who was drowning herself, a butterfly that should never have been pinned down, and put into a doll house like she was… was a town that wasn’t just quiet, but was quiet on injustice and… - Paterson let his mind go blank, as he left the outskirts behind. His tank was still full for a few more hours. A few good more hours…

When Armie couldn’t run anymore, he walked. Once he’d left the forest, he found a railway station and snuck onto the next train. There was a deserted compartment, and when he looked inside he saw the likely reason why. A big, bald man with gang tattoos sat alone, laughing to himself in his sleep. But Armie calculated this place would be best, and hid himself in a corner. 

It worked out. Armie dozed very lightly, and no one came to bother them for a long time. When the train rolled into Central Station, and a new conductor came in, he did go straight for this compartment, but then was too busy arguing with the man, to notice Armie slipping out.  
This place would do, the gingerhaired figured. It was finally big enough to get lost in… 

Paterson hadn’t made a plan, he’d just run. Now that evening was drawing in, and his tank was running low, he wondered what he should do. His comms buzzed. Actually, it had buzzed for a while, but he’d ignored it. Now he felt like picking up.

“Paterson. Where are you?”, Donny asked with a very nasal tone, even considering the comms’ distortion

“Close to the city.”, Paterson said monotonously.

Donny took a deep breath.

“Listen, turn the bus in at the Franklin's depot. We have a partnership with them. Turn it in, and we won’t press charges.”

Paterson stayed silent.

“You’ll get your next pay. I… I feel bad about how all this happened, Paterson.”

“Franklin's, you said?”

“Yeah. Just let her go home and we’ll call it quits.”

“Alright.”

Armie stood counting the change in his hand, then carefully selected his meal from the café’s menu. He’d tried to clean up in the bathrooms as best he could, but the look on the server’s face made him strangely uncomfortable. For sure, it was kind. But it was a worried, pitying, almost giving up look. Armie didn’t feel like he was giving up. He was just starting out. Sure, things might be tough right this second, but this was his life starting out for real. Free! He bit into his burger, and closed his eyes for a moment. 

That, right there, that taste wasn’t just nutrients for his aching muscles. That was freedom. His first free meal. 

The café didn’t need any staff. Nowhere else on this block did either, but he kept walking, kept looking. He'd find a job soon enough, he was sure of it. A job, and a place to stay. Maybe at some point he could even go back to college. But first first things first... It was getting dark now, and the next hostel he’d come across, he’d ask for a bed. He had enough for a few nights, he thought. 

At the corner, he looked into a shop, but for some reason that greatly offended the owner. A portly man in his late 50s, with greasy blonde hair, he came rushing out, screaming and waving his fist: “Told you to get out of here, you filthy rat! Scram! Scram!”

Armie threw his hands up and squealed – the resemblance to Brendol was both striking and insane,… he tried to argue that he’d never met the man before, but it was no use at all. In fact, it made the man only madder, and he picked up a metal bar and started waving it at Armie.

“Quick! Get in!!", he heard someone shout behind him, and at the same time the blond guy tried to hit him, missing by a close enough margin to make Armie run towards the voice without a second thought.

It was a grey car, big, and warm inside, and the driver smiled sweetly as he drove off, leaving the crazy guy screaming behind. Armie exhaled deeply. 

“I have no idea what that was about… I never met him in life before…”

“Oh, you have a lovely accent.”, the man smiled. “I’m really glad I could help you out.”

Armie swallowed. He wanted to thank the man politely, but the words got stuck in his throat. 

“Perhaps you could help me out a bit, too…”

They were nice at Franklin’s. When Paterson handed over the bus, they didn’t say anything about it really, just nodded and signed him off. Paterson nodded, too, put his hands into his pockets and started to leave. He had almost cleared the station, when one of the guys caught up with him.

“Hey, uhm… so what’s your plan now?”

Paterson shrugged without turning around.

“Are you going back? There’s a night bus leaving here in 20.”

Going back. Getting the night bus back. Back to his wife who had left him, and the job he had been fired from. Back to… nothing… Paterson shrugged again.

“Right. Well… If you aren’t doing anything else… it’d be a shame to waste your skills… It’s not the same, of course, as trucking, and you’d have to take an exam… sometime… but they’re in a pinch. My brother-in-law, he’s in trucking, and they just lost three drivers. Immigration. Bloody racist bastards…”

Paterson stopped walking. Encouraged, the guy continued: “The pay is staggered, normally you start at the bottom, but this route is actually alright, and like I said they’re desperate. That load is so hot, it’s burning. They’re going to lose a big contract if-“

“Hot?”, Paterson asked, turning around. “I won’t do anything illegal.”

“No, no, hot load means urgent. Time-sensitive. It’s all above board. The only thing *slightly* bending the rules will be, well… you. Your license. But if you don’t get pulled over…”

Paterson looked at the man. His dark skin shimmered under the neon lights.

“I guess I have some… privileges.”, he sighed.

“Exactly. Bet no one would have stopped you with that stolen bus if you’d taken it all the way to California.”

They shook hands. The man was called Cooper, and he introduced Paterson to James Bird, his brother-in-law. Paterson sat in a small office, drinking hot tea out of a plastic cup and watched a crash course training video, then was handed a folder, a vest, and a set of keys.

"Good luck. We really appreciate this, Paterson.", James shook his hand.

“Thank you for the opportunity.”, Paterson said monotonously.

“We’ll ask for some extra angels on this one.”, Cooper said.

The small curl in the corner of Paterson’s lip was the closest to a smile anyone had seen on him all day. Cooper and James deserved it. They opened a hell of a random door when Paterson was about to crash into a wall. He carefully moved the truck out of the parking lot, and started driving.

Armie’s ears were ringing with panic. The driver had locked the doors, and kept talking in such a detachedly friendly way, that it made the gingerhaired feel sick. Sociopath, most likely... He kept nodding and trying to be polite, while wrecking his brain for how to get out of here – but always came up blank As they left the busy streets behind them, his chances for help were quickly fading away, too. When they got to an industrial area, the car pulled into an empty parking lot, in front of closed garages and repairs shops. 

“It’s nice to be somewhere quiet, isn’t it?”, the man grinned, and put his hand on Armie’s naked thigh. “Now just be nice to me, and I won’t have to hurt you… you'll be a good boy now, won't you?”

No. No! This wasn’t going to happen. This couldn’t be the end station. This could *not* be how this ended! He had only just gotten away from his abusive father… 

Armie screamed, and punched the guy as hard as he could. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to shock him for long enough to allow Armie to lean over and release the doors. He jumped out, and immediately began running… but where to? The area was deserted, except for… a truck depot further up…

“Get back in here, you fucking bitch! I’m going to kill you!”

Armie ran faster…

Paterson was just pulling out onto the road, when he noticed someone running towards him... A young man, red hair, wide eyes, too slim, and dressed much too lightly, was waving his arms towards him pleadingly, while being chased by an older man, who was screaming his head off in rage. Paterson frowned, and slowed his truck. The redhead sped up. Paterson leaned over and opened his door as he stopped the truck. A mere heartbeat later, the readhead had jumped in, and pulled the door close.

“Drive. Please! He’s going to kill me.”, he sobbed as he strapped himself in. Fuck... "Please be alright, dude, please don't be another monster..." he thought. Did he just make the same mistake, perhaps even worse?

Paterson nodded and started the truck up, just as the other guy got close.

“He robbed me! That guy is a thief!!”, he screamed, and Paterson raised an eyebrow, but did not stop or question the sobbing mess sitting on the passenger’s seat. He drove on, and reached behind his seat for a blanket, which he carefully placed on Armie's lap.

“He’s lying…”, the gingerhaired said quietly, as he wrapped himself in the soft, dark material.

“Perhaps he’d have deserved it.”, Paterson said dryly. 

Armie sniffled a laugh. "What's your name?", he asked with a shy voice.

"Alan. Alan Paterson."

"I'm Armie. Armitage Hux... Where are you going?"

"Chicago. Does that suit you?"

Armie laughed softly. "Right now, I'd follow you anywhere.", he whispered very quietly.

Paterson heard him, but didn't react. He knew those words weren't really meant for him to hear. Instead, he waited until Armie gave an 'official' answer.

"Yes, that's perfect. Anywhere big is perfect."

"You want to disappear...", Paterson said softly, after a long moment of silence.

Armie nodded. 

"Me, too, I think. At least for now."

Armie took off his shoes, and pulled his knees up, wrapped his arms around them, and leaned back, looking out of the window... Paterson seemed so different... dreamy, calm... troubled, yes, but not dangerous... Something in his voice, his eyes, was honest. Authentic. Made Armie feel safe. 

"Do you think you disappear more when you're moving?", he eventually asked. "Like trees and lights blur out of the window..."

"Yeah. Exactly like that..."

Again, they were silent. Paterson kept driving, and at one point, reached into a compartment in the front panel. He pulled out a sandwich, and two chocolate bars. Taking one of the bars, he handed the other to the gingerhaired, and asked him to open and split the sandwich, so they could share it. 

BLT. With extra salad. 

They ate in silence, but it felt comforting.

"Can I... keeping coming along with you?", Armie asked very quietly, when they had long finished.

Paterson thought for a moment. Cars were moving past them. The free-way stretched out ahead. He had no idea where he was going after Chicaho. But... perhaps, for now, he could know *who* he was going with? Perhaps Armie was one of Cooper's angels...

"You can follow me anywhere.", Paterson said slowly, making sure to mean every word.

**Author's Note:**

> The fic came about after watching this Paterson edit https://instagram.com/p/BwsBHVaHX5d/ by @ephemvris - the song is Pim Stones - Neon Lights.
> 
> I will probably need to fix this story up, and I might add chapters, too. For now, though, it is as it is.


End file.
